


Safety

by angelic_ly



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: (i say that because Aerith is who I was thinking of), Gen, as it would turn out, getting rescued from life/death situations by pretty strangers is kinda therapeutic, i also envision this to be kh3 riku, the one with noctis hair specifically lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 00:32:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16821562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelic_ly/pseuds/angelic_ly
Summary: You think of his eyes, and you feel safe.





	Safety

You’re holding your breath. You’re not sure if it’s making any difference in the end, but it makes you feel better that for now, at least, those  _ things _ can’t find you. You aren’t quite sure what they are -- just a pair of eerie yellow eyes and a sharp set of claws bouncing in the darkness. 

Today started out so normal, so like any other day, and now you’re here, cowering in the very same darkness those monsters seem to dwell in. You don’t know the fate of your neighbors, of your classmates, of the coworkers at the job you hate, of your friends, of your family. You don’t know their fate, but you have an inkling of what it may be, and you wonder if you’ll be following them.

Thunder booms, and wind picks up in a place where wind shouldn’t be able to pick up. You don’t dare leave your hiding spot, but you know that something has demolished your surroundings, leaving you more exposed in some unidentifiable way. 

Abruptly, you wish you’d picked a better hiding spot than the center of a pile of crates. You could barely move the things to wedge yourself between them in the first place. If they collapse, you could get crushed. If they get destroyed, you’ll probably be taken with them. You’re desperately hoping that won’t happen.

Hope alone, however, is not enough to get you through this.

All you can think about are your stupid dashed hopes as you watch the crates in front of you crumble. The debris is immediately tossed away from you by the storm brewing outside, though a few of the splintered fragments still find your arms and legs. Lightning flashes, and you see them writhing there in front of you, a horde of monsters ready to devour their prey. 

There’s maybe only five of them, but the way their eyes dance in the darkness and the way panic races through your veins has your higher brain functions shutting down. It’s fight or flight, but seeing as there’s nowhere for you to run to without going through them and that you have no weapons, it’s really just death. Even if you did have a weapon, you certainly don’t know how to use it against these  _ things _ \--

The one closest to you launches itself into the air, claws extended. You snap your eyes shut, throw your arms up in front of your face, and wait for the end. Thunder cracks so loudly that you feel like your skull is about to burst, and you suddenly realize that this is definitely not how you envisioned it all ending--

The wind whistles around you. Distantly you hear the storm roaring. Paradoxically, it’s silent. There’s no pain, and you suppose this is how death is supposed to feel, though you were sure you were going to be ripped to shreds.

“Hey.”

You open your eyes.

He’s got a hand held out to you, his silver hair whipping in the wind and his aquamarine eyes piercing into yours. They seem to glow in the dark, but not in the same way that the monsters’ do -- his feel warm, and you feel safe meeting his gaze, sharp as it is. 

His lips are moving, and he’s holding his hand out more insistently, but you can’t hear him. Idly you think that it’s from the shock of the near-death experience. You stare at his hand, but your muscles are still locked in fear, and you can’t move. You try to speak, if only to respond to whatever he’s saying, but all you can manage is a mere croak. 

There’s a flash of light, from what you’re unsure, and then he’s kneeling down to your level. He holds his hand out to you so gently, a concerned look in his eyes, and his words are finally reaching your ears.

“I know you’re scared, but we have to go. I can get you somewhere safe. I’ll protect you, I promise. But we have to go right now.”

When he says “now,” you take his hand in a feat of muscle control you’d been sure you were incapable of. He lifts you to your feet and that flash of light is back again. You look down and there’s -- a -- a sword? -- resting comfortably in his other hand. His fingers squeeze and you look back up at him. He smiles. 

“Ready?”

No. You’re scared out of your wits and you have no idea what’s gonna happen to you and you have no idea what’s happening around you and your mind is whirring in a frenzy -- but the longer you hold his gaze, the safer you feel. It’s not enough to negate your anxiety, sure, but it’s enough to get you to nod and to make you move your feet to step closer to him. 

He only lets go of your hand when it’s absolutely necessary, which somehow isn’t often. The thought crosses your mind to ask what’s going on, or where he’s taking you, but he looks so focused, and you don’t want to compromise that when the well-being of both of you is on the line. You remain silent, and he guides you through the streets he ought not to know so well.

Eventually he calls out to someone -- you don’t catch the name, but you’re transferred over. Warm, supportive hands are at your shoulders and a gentle voice is in your ear. You don’t understand what it’s saying, however, because you see him beginning to return to what is doubtlessly now a battlefield. 

“Wait,” you call out, “what about you? Aren’t you coming?”

He pauses and turns back around to speak to you head-on. Everything else is drowning out of your focus except for him -- you don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s because he saved your life, maybe it’s because he’s certainly not hard on the eyes, it could be anything, really; the shake of his head really should not bring you so much distress.

“Lots of people still need help. I’ve got to do all I can.”

You think about your neighbors, and your classmates, and your coworkers from the job you hate, and your friends, and your family, and you understand what he means. You nod, and you open your mouth to offer parting words as he dives back into your violated former home. 

You hope to give some well-wishes, a  _ be careful, _ a  _ good luck _ , a  _ stay safe _ , perhaps even a joking  _ don’t die _ , but none of those leave your lips. “What’s your name?” It’s the last thing you should be saying, but it’s at the forefront of your mind.

He blinks. Clearly, he’s just as surprised hearing it as you are saying it. His blank expression quickly morphs into one of surety, of confidence, and you just instinctively know that he’ll be perfectly fine. 

“It’s Riku,” he says, and then he spins on his heel and runs off, disappearing around a corner. 

“Riku,” you repeat, long after he’s gone and you’re sitting in a secure safe zone with a handful of other town residents. There’s a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You pull it tighter around you and say his name again.

Somehow, it makes you feel safer than you already are -- makes you feel more secure than you already do. Despite the blanket and the solid walls around you and the idle conversation of the other occupants, you know it’s solely because of him.

You think of his eyes, and you feel safe.

**Author's Note:**

> No one asked for this but I wrote it anyways, cause I'm back on that KH shit. Published it because I was desperate for it to be consumed. For this piece, it could be seen as "the world is falling to darkness" or "heartless invasion;" either way, Riku (and some others) are staging a rescue of the town's citizens. While writing this, I was listening to Hand in Hand, the KH1 version. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the read!!


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